


the juxtaposition of someone like you in a place like this

by solariswrites (serablossom)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, College Student Tim Drake, Drabble, Kon & Steph are here but it's a minor appearance, M/M, Mentions of Roy Harper - Freeform, Underground Rapper Jason Todd, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serablossom/pseuds/solariswrites
Summary: The first time Jason meets Tim, it’s at an underground rap concert and Jason doesn’t even see him at first.In hindsight, that would’ve been Damian’s fault, the ‘not seeing Tim right away’ bit.The rest of the blame was on Dick.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 9
Kudos: 108





	the juxtaposition of someone like you in a place like this

**Author's Note:**

> this is like a 2-year-old concept that was gonna be a longer oneshot but i ran outta motivation forever ago so let's at least have this lil plot bunny see the light of day.
> 
> ngl, i have no knowledge of the underground hip hop scene outside of fanfiction so i'm probably wrong about shit, but let's all assume they play in warehouses that have sofas. i just... really love the aesthetic of jason as an underground rapper so please enjoy him in all his sweaty and flustered glory, because tim sure does

The first time Jason meets Tim, it’s at an underground rap concert and Jason doesn’t even see him at first.

In hindsight, that would’ve been Damian’s fault, the ‘not seeing Tim right away’ bit.

The rest of the blame was on Dick.

Because no one gets soft just from compliments from strangers, not in seedy places like this one. No one will go up to Jason and make him think _oh, oh okay so this is what it’s about, he’s cute._

So, when Jason finishes his set and rides on the high of the crowd, his grin is wolfish in every sense of the word, and being soft is the furthest thing from his mind. Jason would embrace chaos with open arms and a smirk, but, right now, he’d have given up his rising career for a bottle of water.

Making his way to the back, Jason rips off his hood, cards his fingers through sweat-slick hair and scowls. There’s an itch on his scalp that he can’t quite quell and he thinks that he’s long overdue for a bath. He’s glad he let his nag of an older brother talk him into getting an apartment near Dick’s own – and, in effect, nearer to the warehouse the scene usually crashes in.

Something cold and wet touches Jason’s cheek. “Nice job, Jaybird.”

_And speaking of meddling older brothers._

“Dick,” Jason says as a greeting, more insult than name. He grabs the water bottle Dick offers, the cool surface a reprieve to his burning skin. When Jason tips his head back to drink, some of it runs down the corner of his mouth, soaking his already-drenched tee.

“Rude,” Dick grins, dimples pitting against his cheeks. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Alfred’s always been more of a hugger than a kisser.”

Dick laughs, too loud and too bright to belong in a place like this. “I’ll tell Alfred you said that.”

“ _You_ always were the tattle,” Jason knocks back another bottle that his brother offers him. “Damian’s more mature than you, and he’s ten.”

“ _Fourteen_ in three months, actually, Todd.” A voice suspiciously similar to Damian’s says from behind him. “I don’t expect much from your memory, however. Your songwriting, as much as it sounds like drivel, demands so much of your mental faculties already.”

Jason almost does a spit-take – he doesn’t, he’s got a _reputation_ after all, but the temptation is there – and spins around to gawk at his youngest brother. Damian sits primly on one of the many sofas littering the venue, squished to the side by three other occupants. Wearing all black, with a turtleneck and long-sleeves to boot, Damian appears as if the oppressive heat has no effect on him. If Jason didn’t know who Damian’s father was, Jason would’ve been surprised.

Instead, he says, “What the hell are you doing here, short stack?”

Damian lifts one impressive brow, arch as condescending as possible. “Grayson brought us to watch your performance.” He tilts his head to the side, indicating the three other people on the sofa with him. “Drake and his friends seemed to hold your show in much higher regard than I do. _Hip hop_ was never my taste.”

“Neither is regular water,” Jason says, this time to the newbies. “He doesn’t touch that shit. Only this European frizzy stuff.” He and Dick come closer to the sofa, the energetic crowd not really giving them much of a chance for more room. From the sounds of it, Jason would assume that Roy had already started his set.

The one pressed up against Damian is a girl, blonde-haired and blue-eyed like a stereotype. She looks out of place – they all do, really – but her moreso by the _colorfulness_ of her clothes surrounded by all the grunge. On her other side is a boy, built broad and intimidating, an arm slung on the backs of his friends in a protective gesture. Jason thinks that, if they were on even footing, the kid would be a few inches shy of his own height. Lastly, on the farthest side of the sofa, is another boy, this one ganglier than the other. There’s a Red Bull clutched in his hand and he won’t stop looking at Jason.

“These are a couple of college students who are doing their practicum in Wayne Enterprises.” Dick introduces smoothly, breaking Jason’s train of thought. “They’re fans.” Then, to the trio, he says, “Guys, this is our brother, Jason.”

Jason smiles and knows it comes out more of a smirk, he’s practiced it in front of the mirror more times than he’d care to admit. He extends a hand to the person closest to him – “Stephanie Brown,” she says – and when she shakes Jason’s hand, her grip is surprisingly firm.

“This is Conner Kent.” Dick gestures to the boy in the middle, who only nods back at Jason. “And this is Timothy Drake.”

Jason's eyes widen in recognition. "Janet and Jack Drake's kid."

Timothy shrugs, eyes off Jason for the first time since they've talked. “Just call me Tim. Everyone does.” He says at the same time Damian leans forward to catch Jason’s attention.

“Drake’s your _biggest_ fan.” Damian smiles with all his teeth, words heavy with an implication Jason’s too tired to read into. Timothy – _Tim_ – gives Damian the stink eye, far too comfortable around the Wayne heir than any college intern normally is.

“I can’t blame you,” Jason leans forward so he can be heard over the heavy bass of Roy’s second song. “Red Hood _is_ the shit around here.” From his periphery, he can see Dick roll his eyes, probably about to retort something about not letting Jason’s ego get the better of him.

But Timothy-turned-Tim beats him to the punch. Speaks first, thinks later, and ends up saying, “I can see why, you sounded like a cathedral.”

Everyone pauses at that, especially Tim, whose head does a brilliant impression of a tomato.

Jason doesn’t know if that was an insult or not. “Thank you…? I guess?”

Tim’s face crumples. “No, I’m sorry, I just blurted that out. What I meant to say was that your voice has this quality that makes people feel vast and powerful and ageless. But there’s also a solemn undertone to it, as if there’s a sadness under all that bravado.”

At this, Jason feels himself color, the tips of his ears tingling. He’s an underground rapper, and despite the profession being one that dealt words on the daily, he’d never been complimented so gracefully before.

He’s been silent too long, because Tim is speaking again, trying to make light of what he just said even though the weight of it, the sincerity of it, has already made a home in Jason’s bones.

“No, okay, don’t.” Jason waves a hand and tries for a kinder smile. “Don’t apologize, I get what you’re saying. Thanks, man.” He tries to be at least half as sincere as Tim had sounded, maybe then he would calm down and stop rambling.

Tim smiles, something shy at first but then it’s a mega kilowatt beam that could power the whole venue for weeks, and Jason is _floored_. Honestly, Tim should’ve just struck him with a crowbar.

Briefly, he thinks: _oh, oh okay so this is what it’s about, he’s cute_.

Briefly, he thinks: _whatever happens after this, it’s all Dick’s fault_.

**Author's Note:**

> no one can say this was ooc because this is an au and the dcu already gave continuity a middle finger so we're all saying 'fuck you' to canon okay? okay
> 
> also while tagging this i learned that there... are so many different tags... for ['no beta we die like men'](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Not%20Beta%20Read) & 3 of them are jason todd-related (7, if you count all the robin mentions) lmao what a king


End file.
